I'm Not Ready
by masked-spangler
Summary: Season 3. Addison works through the divorce with little peer counselling.
1. Chapter 1

I'm Not Ready

_How do you dare to know me?  
How do you dare to feel me?  
How do you dare to see me?  
Why do I leave myself open?  
I'm not ready...  
(Creeping Lovely, "I'm Not Ready")_

"Well, aren't you in a good mood."

She rolled her eyes, shrugged a little, a tiny smirk playing over the defiant sulk. She was in Silent Mode today, which Sydney supposed was at least a little better than Angry Mode or Sad Mode. Better still would be Talking Mode, but that was maybe too much to hope for just yet. In spite of Addison Montgomery-Shepherd being one of her few charges who actually came voluntarily, the redheaded surgeon had yet to open up.

"I mean, you know people," she had complained, during the latter half of their first session.

"You know that anything you tell me here is confidential," Sydney assured her. "This is therapy, Addison."

"Peer counseling."

"Therapy. With peers, yes, but fully qualified and board-licensed peers, bound by the same doctor-patient privilege as..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But…look, say I come in and talk about Derek."

"Is that what you want to talk about?"

"Say I did. And then you had to go and work with him. It wouldn't be weird?"

"It doesn't leave the room, hon. Whatever you tell me, it stays here."

Addison hadn't looked completely convinced, but she booked another session anyway. She was clearly in need, and in spite of her reservations, the on-site nature of the set-up finally sold her: if she got paged during a session, she could respond without anybody knowing where she had been or what she had been doing. Sydney had tackled that one in session three.

"It's not a dirty secret, you know," she told Addison.

That was met with red and streaky eyes. It had been a Sad Mode day. "What?"

"This. Counseling, therapy, whatever you want to call it. It's not a dirty secret. There's nothing at all to be ashamed of in taking charge of your mental health and exploring coping strategies which are constructive and cathar… "

Addison sniffled loudly and buried a sob in her Kleenex. Sydney did her best to keep her face impassive. "Addison?"

"Yeah. Just…not really in the mood for jargon right now. Can we skip the sales pitch? I came, didn't I?"

Yes, she had come. And she had spent the first fifteen minutes of the session describing, in great detail, a patient she had just performed surgery on, delicate surgery, on a badly injured patient who could end the session at any moment with a well-timed crisis. Sydney would understand, of course, if she had to leave, wouldn't she? Sydney had only nodded and sighed. It was so transparent, what she was doing—building that rapport with her, you understand how it is, fellow doctor, you're just like me. Trying to convince herself that they were equals, that needing Sydney's help was not a weakness.

At the fifth session, Angry Mode had made its first appearance. It was a Thursday, and she had called Sydney out of the blue.

"Can you squeeze me in?"

"Is everything all right, Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd?"

"Can you squeeze me in, yes or no?"

"I can always squeeze you in, Addison. Why? Did something happen?"

"Stop prying! Look, I'll come in. We'll see what we can do."

But she had been too full of steam to get much out. Something about Meredith Grey, and a supply closet, and how coming and venting to her was better than crying in one. Well, it was a step, at least. Not a very big step, but a step just the same.

And today? They were back to Silent Mode. But she kept her ear to the ground, one wasn't a contender for chief resident if they couldn't do that, and she had heard scuttle.

"Was it awful?" she began gently. "Signing the papers, I mean?"

A clear, sharp wince cracked the mask of impassiveness, but still, Addison said nothing.

"What? What, did he yell? Did he cry? Did you?"

Finally, she answered. "Nobody yelled."

"So, that's good. That's good, right?"

"He was nice. I was nice. We were disgustingly nice."

"And?"

"And…damn. You're going to push me. You have this look in your eyes like you're going to push me."

"And?"

"Look, can't we just stop? I just…I need…"

"What, Addison? What do you need?"

"I just need to _think_ for a few minutes, without everybody…" She sighed. "Sorry. Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, I just need to…"

"What? Let it out? Addison, we're never going to get anywhere with this if you don't let it out."

"No. Not now. Not yet."

"Can I just ask you one tiny little question?"

"What?"

"If you don't let it out now, if you don't let it out here, where will you?"

She broke down then, and spent the rest of her session in the throes of an impressive display of deep, wet sobs. She was out of Silent Mode, at least. But she still wasn't talking.

--


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

--

Session seven, and Addison was in full-on self-pity mode. This was new, but not entirely unexpected.

She had come in, sat down and promptly buried her head in her hands with a manically desperate chuckle. "God. I disgust myself."

Seven stages of grief, Sydney reminded herself. This was not entirely unexpected. She kept her expression neutral. "Why is that?"

Addison picked up her hands again, waved them absently over her glum, sober face. "I mean, look at me."

"You're going through a difficult transition."

"No, not going through. Succumbing, Wallowing. Feeling sorry for myself. It's disgusting."

"Is it?"

"I'm not like this, you know."

"Of course."

"I mean, if you knew me before…I'm strong. Competent. Driven. I'm a respected surgeon at the top of her game. This? This isn't me."

Denial. First stage of grief.

"And when it was good? Okay, so it maybe wasn't good for as long as I'd been fooling myself that it was, but when it was good? We had that. At least, I think we did."

"Addison…"

"No! See, I'm doubting again, and that's pathetic, and it's disgusting, and weak and I'm not doing that. We had that."

"Okay…"

"So maybe, he looks at her, and it's so new and special and…I don't know. And he looks at her, and I see it, and it's hard for me to remember it, but I had it too…"

"And you're wondering when it was that it changed for you?"

"No. I'm wondering when it was that it changed for him."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

Head in the hands again. "You're trying to confuse me."

"Hey, I'm just here to listen. I don't judge. I don't influence."

"Yeah, you just listen. So how, exactly, is this supposed to help me?"

"Faith, Addison. Therapy, like relationships, is a process. A journey."

"And am I getting any further along?"

"Well, you're talking. You didn't at first."

Addison frowned, confusion nudging away the unhappiness for a moment. "I didn't?"

"No."

The frown deepened. "I don't remember that."

"It's a process."

"I don't remember that. But it happened?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember him looking at me the way he looks at her, either. Did that happen too?"

Sydney kept her voice deliberately soft, deliberately gentle. "I can't answer that for you."

She nodded, dropped her head again. "I hate this. I really, really do."

--


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

--

Session nine, and Addison was working the 'drowned rat' look. It was raining, in the way it did only in Seattle, a constant, wearying drip on the roof as water poured from the sky.

"Did you know, it makes people nicer?" Addison had remarked when she first came in.

"What does?"

"The rain, it makes people nicer. I had people smile at me, stop to hold the door, people stop to ask me if I was okay…"

She did look somewhat pitiful. The rain had taken her by surprise, and she hadn't been dressed for it. Her hair had clumped in matted tangles around her flushed, clammy face and even at the half hour mark, she still was shivering.

"That surprises you?" Sydney asked.

She shrugged, the motion spewing drips off her hair onto the cushions. "I'm used to New York, I guess. People never smile at strangers."

Was that why she was taking the divorce so hard? Because, in New York, people didn't smile at strangers? She had worked, she had gone home. And people didn't smile at strangers. There had been no one but Derek…

"And here?" she prodded. "People do?"

She could see Addison tensing even as the words came out. Therapy really was a relationship, and Addison was getting to know her too. Addison recognized the prying question for what it was: nine sessions in, and still, Derek remained the only person in her life that she had talked about.

There were rumours, of course. Sydney had heard them too, and she was trying to get Addison to talk to her, about Sloan, about others. Trying to get a handle on the releases that Addison had tried already, the releases that hadn't been working for her. The releases that had brought her to the desperation of finally seeking help…

"I shouldn't have come," Addison said, wrapping her coat more tightly around herself. She was still shivering. "I don't really have anything to talk about today."

"Umm hmm."

"And I feel a little guilty about wasting your time like this. I'm sure you have better things to do."

"Better than what?"

Addison didn't answer, but Sydney waited, knowing by now that silence was the better way to draw her out. It was important that Addison start pinning down the insecurity in a way that was a little more concrete, direct.

"Well, better than…better than…" She trailed off, looking suddenly unhappy. "Great. It's bad enough I suck at marriage, now I suck at therapy too."

"There's no right or wrong way, Addison."

"Stop it. Stop. If you give me a platitude right now, so help me, I'll…"

Sydney allowed herself a smile. "You'll what?"

She drew up her knees, looking small and cold and sad. "Forget it. Look, can we just sit here for a minute?"

Again, she bit her tongue. She comes voluntarily, Sydney reminded herself. She's getting there. She comes voluntarily.

"God," Addison said. "Look at me. Not so impressive now, am I?"

"Are you often impressive?"

"I'm a surgeon, Sydney."

"And?"

"Well, you know."

"Do I?"

"Stop doing that! I hate it when you do that!"

Sydney opened her mouth, then closed it again, changing tacks. "Do you want the towel now?"

"No."

"You're still wet."

"I like being wet."

"Because it makes people nicer?"

She didn't answer. Her silence was answer enough.

--


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

--

She trounced in, sank herself into a seat with a flip of her hair, and met Sydney's gaze with a defiant motion.

"You rang?"

Sydney reminded herself that she was too professional to rise to the bait. She responded with a simple "Hey, Addison."

Addison adjusted herself, apparently in a fidgety mood. "Yeah. So, you, calling me. That's a new one."

"Well, you know what they say. Life's full of surprises, isn't it?"

That prompted a flicker of unhappiness in Addison's eyes that was not unexpected given the circumstances. She saw Addison tense up, a rigid edge of tightness working its way across her shoulders and into her jaw. Going into Cautious Mode, putting up her walls. Syndey knew the signs by now.

"I heard about what happened this morning," Sydney continued. "I wanted to check in with you and make sure you were okay."

"Aren't I always?"

Bait, she told herself again. She pressed on, ignoring the comment. "I know how it is, Addison. I'm a doctor too, remember?"

"Yeah."

"So I know. Losing a patient, that never gets easy."

A pause, a tremor of pain in the features, a fidgety twirl of her fingers on the edge of the chair. "Two patients," Addison finally said.

"What's that?"

"The mother, and the baby. That's two patients."

Sydney took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her voice even. She hadn't known that the mother died too.

"And?" she prompted.

Addison shrugged. "It happens."

"But it still isn't easy."

"A lot isn't easy."

The silence hung between them for a moment. "Do you want to talk about that?" Syndey prompted.

"About what?"

"Things that aren't easy."

The fingers were twirling again, faster this time, pressing into the cushion with angry little jabs. "No," Addison said. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Do you want to talk about them instead?"

"About who?"

"The mother. The baby. The family."

A tear. Addison batted away at it with an impatient sniffle, her control slipping a little. "No. I really don't want to talk about them."

"Why not?"

This was her favourite tactic, surprising Addison into giving her an answer. The question had flummoxed her straight into Babble Mode. "Because…because…well, because I…I don't know what to do!" she snapped. "You want me to give you analysis on this? Tell you how I'm feeling? Well, I don't know, okay? I'm just…I'm…"

"It was an intense experience," Sydney prompted.

"Yeah."

"And you haven't finished processing it yet."

"I guess not."

"So let's do that now."

"But…"

"You're sad?"

"For obvious reasons."

"And maybe a little angry?"

Anger was an easier emotion to vent than pain or vulnerability, and she watched Addison fire up with it. "Yeah." She sounded surprised. "I'm angry."

"At yourself?"

"There was nothing I could have done."

"But?"

"But the family, they were looking at me like I could have saved them. They were making me doubt…and it was hard enough, without that. Losing a patient, I mean."

"Uh huh."

"It got to me. Had me wondering if maybe they were right…"

"That's always a slippery slope," Sydney interrupted.

"But if the husband had brought her in this morning, when the cramps first started…if the OB resident went ahead and started a c-section while he was waiting for me to answer the page…if we had…"

"Addison…"

"I know! And it bugs the crap out of me, Sydney. My job, it's the one thing in the entire world that I'm good at, and to have that…picked on…yeah, I was mad. Mad I couldn't save them. Mad it was making me feel this way. Just mad about the whole damn thing."

She ignored the latter part. Anger about pain was nothing new or surprising. But the other thing…

"The only thing you're good at? Really?"

"Well, look at my life, Sydney. Family, scattered. Marriage, gone…"

"Ah."

"Stop that! This is not about that. I lost a patient this morning."

"Two patients," Sydney said.

"I lost two patients, and it threw me, and put me in a funk. This is not about Derek."

"Sure it's not."

"Stop doing that! This is not about Derek. This is not about me."

"This is therapy, Addison. Everything is about you."

There was a pause. Then, Addison quietly admitted "Yeah. I don't really like that part."

"Oh, I bet. The job, it's all about other people's needs. The marriage, it was all about other people's needs too, wasn't it?"

"I already told you, this isn't about that!"

"Sure it's not. Addison, let me ask you a question. When was the last time it was ever all about you?"

Flummoxed again, but Addison was too stumped to even babble. Sydney tried it another way. "When was the last time it should have been about you?"

She brushed her hands through her hair, sank back into the chair, drew her knees up with a petulant scowl. "Yeah. I don't really want to talk about that either."

--


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

--

It was raining again. Addison had arrived for her appointment dripping little puddles from her hair, shivering in fashionable but impractical business casual. Sydney had offered her a blanket.

"I'm okay," Addison gritted through chattering teeth.

She took in the soggy shoulders with an impassive nod. "Uh huh."

"I'll dry, won't I? This too shall pass, and other things my mother used to say."

"Yup. We still talking about the rain, sweetpea?"

"What?"

"This too shall pass. We still talking about the rain?"

Addison frowned. "You can't do that. I didn't say we had started yet."

"It might shock you to know that it isn't entirely up to you."

Addison folded her arms. "I come voluntarily."

"And you have been for long enough that it's stopped earning you bonus points. Addison, we've talked about this already. You have to be honest with me."

"Uh huh."

"You have to trust the process. You have to allow the process."

"Uh huh."

"You have to believe that you'll be okay, cause you will. It might seem lonely right now…"

"I never said I was lonely!"

"All right." Sydney backpedaled quickly, ever aware of how skittish this one was. "You're right. I shouldn't presume."

Addison sighed. "Okay. You want me to say it? Fine. I'm lonely, okay?"

"Good girl."

"I'm lonely, and it…god. It hurts, Sydney. A lot. I never knew I could hurt like this."

She said nothing, letting Addison babble.

"And the funny thing? The marriage, the end of which is making me so lonely? I think I was lonelier there."

"Could that be what's making you so sad about this?" Sydney suggested.

Addison frowned. "I don't understand."

"Sure you do."

She held Addison's gaze until Addison crumbled, blinking her eyes and looking away, hands clenching in her lap. "Okay," she said. Her tone was wooden, and cold. "Okay. I do understand."

"If I might suggest a tiny little shift in your paradigm, sweetheart…is it possible, just possible that all this pain is a good thing?"

"How?"

"Because you know it can be so much better than this. You have that to look forward to."

"Okay, you assume two things. One, that there is a better. I personally have yet to be convinced. And two, that if there is a better, I can find it. Again, my track record in that regard, not so hot."

"But you've been looking?"

She swiped a clammy strand of hair out of her eyes, avoiding, defenses up as soon at the barest hint of prying. But she answered. "Yeah. I look."

"And?"

"And every time I think I might have found it, I find that the 'better' is just as superficial, just as needy and degrading and empty as the rest of it."

"Because?"

"Because men are pigs?"

Sydney turned on the sympathy eyes. "Now, come on. You can't really believe that."

"Derek held open doors, pulled out chairs, brought me flowers and jewelry and take-out on nights I'd been on call. And it still was empty. Does it surprise you that I'd almost prefer it if he'd been a total jerk?"

"No. It doesn't surprise me."

"All right, so men aren't pigs. But…"

"Yes?"

"Am I, do you think?"

"Addison!"

"No, I'm serious. If I have to talk today, so do you. So, tell me. Is there something about me that's just fundamentally unlovable?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"But?"

"You tell me. You know it, Addison. You're trying to dance around it because it scares you so much, but you know it."

"Sydney…"

"No. Stop thinking. Just say it, Addison."

"But…"

"Say it."

"Fine. It's me. It's always been me. They never get in because…because I never let them."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm afraid of real commitment?"

"That's a really pat answer, hon. You had commitment."

"Yeah. And look how that turned out."

"So you keep it superficial. So that when they do disappoint, you get to blame them?"

"No."

"Yes. Why didn't you pack an umbrella today?"

Addison looked up again, eyes startled. "What's that got to do with any of this?"

"Did you know it would rain?"

"Well…"

"It's been raining for three days. And you woke up this morning to a grey, cloudy sky. I would assume you would…"

"What? That I would see them?"

"They're pretty hard to miss."

"Whoa. We're not talking about the rain anymore."

"Sure we are. You might not see the storm clouds head-on…although you could if you had a little more self-awareness about them…but that doesn't mean you won't still get wet when they open up."

"So…"

"So you pack an umbrella when you go outside. That way, if a downpour does take you by surprise, at least you won't drown in it."

She shivered, wrapping wet arms around herself, defiantly unhappy. "I'm cold and wet and miserable."

She nodded. "Uh huh. So, next time? Pack an umbrella, okay?"

--


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

--

"So," said Sydney. She watched Addison settle in with her muffin and her coffee and her fashionable but patently inappropriate shoes. "How are things?"

Addison fiddled with a stale crumb of muffin crust, crumbling it between her fingers. Pissy Mode today, Sydney guessed, meeting the answering glare with her usual impassive neutrality.

"Things suck, Sydney. Thanks for asking."

"Thanks for telling me. What happened?"

More fidgeting. She smothered the impulse to snap at her to sit still already.

"I just feel…I don't know. All over the place."

She had feelings! And she was articulating them, in words! This was progress. Sydney pushed. "All over how?"

"Just…I don't know. I cry sometimes."

"Okay…"

"Like yesterday. Tough day. Thought I'd treat myself. So I did a little shopping. Went to my favourite upscale boutique, found a killer pair of boots. And…they didn't have my size. And I just…"

"Yes?"

"God, it's so embarrassing. I was just so frustrated, Sydney. I felt these…these feelings, just welling up, and my heart started beating really fast, and I could feel my blood boiling over…"

She broke off, took a deep breath. "Look at that. Telling you, it's working me up again. Such a stupid, stupid thing to get worked up about."

"Feelings are never stupid," Sydney said.

"But…"

"You realize it wasn't really about the boots, right?"

"Oh. I mean, yes. Of course, it wasn't really…but that other stuff…"

"Derek, you mean?"

"I'm over that. I mean, he's moved on. He's happy. And I accept that, and that's it's okay, and that there's no anger, or blame…"

"Maybe so. I still need convincing, but maybe so. But there can be pain, even without sadness and blame, you know. For both of you."

She fidgeted again, looking faintly ill. "I'm feeling it again. Like with the boots thing."

"What?"

"I don't know. Bad. Weird. My heart's beating really fast."

"Do we need to talk about deep breaths again, hon?"

"I shouldn't be feeling this way."

"But you are."

"I shouldn't be."

"You are."

"But I shouldn't be. For God's sake, Sydney, stop this already!"

"You are in a transition period," Sydney explained gently, again. "During a transition period…"

She was hyperventilating, in full-on panic attack mode. "Screw that," she managed shakily. She drew up her knees, body curling in on itself as Sydney coached her through a few deep breaths. This wasn't serious. She was making progress, after all. It wasn't serious.

"We have to end this," Addison said. "Just tell me how."

"It doesn't work that way."

"I'll do whatever you tell me. I won't miss any sessions. I'll work at home. Anything you want."

"Anything?"

"I'm all over the place. Some days, I cry too much. Some days, I feel like I can't stop laughing. And I hate it, Sydney. I miss stability. I miss control. I want it back again."

"Oh, sweetheart, I know, But…"

"Don't tell me it takes time. It shouldn't. Because I'm fine, you know. Lots of people go through this, and they don't come unglued."

"Sure they do. In their own way."

"They go through this," Addison insisted. "And they don't even have it as good as I do. We're very mature about it, Derek and I."

"Even so."

"Yeah. Even so. Sydney?"

"Hmmm?"

"I've been working for twelve hours straight. I just really tired right now. Can I have my homework please?"

--


End file.
